In Another World
by DramaGeek
Summary: In a separate universe Peter and Olivia have lived much happier lives, but echoes of our world seem to bleed into their dreams, causing them to search out each other.  However, finding each other may hold 'grave consequences' for their universe.
1. Chapter 1: Childhood Dreams

Summary:

What if all the horror in your life was just a bad dream? In a separate universe Peter and Olivia have lived much happier lives. No childhood trauma or kidnapping. No fringe science messing with their world. No reason for them to have ever met. Now echoes of our universe seem to bleed into their dreams, interfering with their lives and causing them to search out each other, even though they are strangers. But fate is a fickle thing. In a world in which they were never meant to meet, deviating from that plan could have _grave consequences _for their universe.

A/N:

Haven't written a fanfic in years, but I had this story kicking around in my head. Got to love alternative universes.

A/N [Update]: I thought it would be fun to put glyphs at the ends of the sections. I tried to use *'s and _'s to indicate the side and level of the lights (would have used pictures, but apparently doesn't like it if you include websites). If you're into codes, enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Childhood Dreams

Peter Bishop has a memory that isn't his. In fact, he has hundreds of them. For you see, Peter has always been abnormal in one way: he doesn't dream. Well, he does, but not like everyone else. He's never dreamed of monsters, or sexual fantasies, or even embarrassing moments of public nudity. His dreams are never random collections of his thoughts or subconscious desires. In his dreams he simply lives a life, a life very similar to his own. In it he is Peter Bishop, his father is Walter, his mother is Elizabeth, his world, and the people in it are familiar, but some things are different. When he was a kid his life and this dream life were almost parallel, with only minor differences; slightly different decisions made. But the chasm between these two worlds has opened up over the years and now each night, it's as though Peter lives a strangers life.

Very occasionally Peter's dreams reoccur. He's never figured out why. Perhaps it has to do with his mood (or maybe the mood of his counter part). In times of high stress and fear his brain echoes moments of terror or pain in the other Peter's life (of which there seem to be too many for his twenty-one years). In moments of peace and serenity Peter has his favourite dream. His favourite memory in fact, even including his own. In his dream he's about seven or eight, it's the middle of the night and he's standing in a clearing in the forest filled with white flowers. The only other person present in a little girl with blond hair and shockingly green eyes. He's come to find her; somehow he knew that she would be here, and in this strange sanctuary they sit together and talk. Peter doesn't know who the girl is. That's the only time he's ever seen her in his dreams and he has never found her in real life, but the memory of her and that peaceful night has lingered in his mind over the years. And even though he's lived a happy life-loving parents, devoted friends-it is this memory that always seems to come to mind when he thinks of _calm_, or_ peaceful_, or _home._ He can't explain it. In fact he doesn't want to. By the time he had reached college he had long since rationalized himself out of believing in his dream world, but the field of flowers was precious, and was perhaps the only thing he wouldn't discuss with sarcasm or cynicism.

_Daisy

* * *

><p>To say that Peter had gotten the better end of the stick was understating it. In his dream world, the other Peter Bishop was a mess. His father had been institutionalized when Peter was a child, his mother committed suicide soon after he left home, and although he was in every way as smart as the real Peter was, he never seemed to make <em>smart<em> decisions. He took to conning, gambling, wandering the world nomadically, moving on just in time to escape whatever misfortune was coming his way.

By contrast, Peter's real life was surprisingly stationary. He divided his time as a child between Cambridge and a summer home on Reiden Lake. He had received early acceptance to MIT and had spent the last three years within its wall. If he shared anything in common with his changeable dream self, it was in his academics. For while he was successful at virtually every course he tried, he couldn't decided what it was he wanted to do. In three years at college he had already changed major fours times and he wasn't yet convinced that his newest endeavor (engineering) would hold his interest either. He needed a break and so when some friends at Northwestern invited him up for the weekend he jumped at the chance of scenery.

Peter was to meet everyone at The Deuce. His friends were notoriously late and so when he scanned the room for them, he was not surprised that they had yet to arrive. On a second take something caught his attention. Before his mind had time to process it his feet were already moving toward the bar, and suddenly he was standing beside a young woman, about his age, with long blond hair and shockingly green eyes. The woman was drinking whiskey on the rocks and pleasantly chatting with the bar tender. As if sensing Peter's proximity she looked up at him, green eyes meeting blue, and waited for him to say something.

"Excuse me, do I know you? I swear this isn't a line, you are just really familiar somehow."

Her smile was unreadable. "I don't know. Maybe you've just seen me here before."

"No, I'm just visiting for the weekend. Where did you grow up?" Another questioning look from her.

"I'm not hitting on you, okay. I've got a girl friend, so your safe." As soon as he said it, Peter wished he could take it back. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about this girl. He felt... drawn to her, and not necessarily out of lust. She was attractive to be sure, but there was something deeper pulling at him. Some old memory trying to make its way to the surface. Regardless, his statement did seem to relax her and her words had less of an edge when she answered.

"Jacksonville, Florida. I was an army brat, grew up mostly on military bases. Did anyone in your family serve?"

"Not even remotely."

"Ever visit Florida on vacation?"

"No. Ever come to Boston as a kid?"

"No. We didn't travel much. It's a mystery."

"But you feel it too, right? I mean, do I seem familiar to you?"

Her eyes traced his features, practically memorizing his face. Peter couldn't help it, he held his breath. "Yes" she said at last. "But I don't see how."

Peter couldn't shake the feeling. He searched her face for any clue of how he knew her, "It's like I know you from a dream."

She made a face, but was still smiling, "Oh, now that is definitely a line."

"No, you don't understand. My dreams are really weird."

"Mine aren't. They're about as ordinary as they can get. I just dream about life."

Peter's ears perked up at this, "Your own life?"

"Kind of. It's like my life, but different."

"You're you, but in a slightly different world. One where different choices are made and events play out in a slightly different way, or sometimes a very different way?"

The smile faded from her face, "How did you know that?"

"That's how I dream. I just watch this other version of my life, this other me, but by this point are lives are so divergent."

"Yeah, exactly. I've never met anyone that had dreams like mine."

"Me neither." Peter pauses a moment, lost in thought. He's told a few other people about his dreams, but the conversations never take him very far. His friends were always supportive, but having no experience they could offer no perspective. There's so much he wanted to ask her, so much he wanted to know, that he didn't have any clue where to begin. His shameful indecision always getting the better of him. All those wandering instincts from his dream never letting him settle down, not even on a simple question. "Can I ask you a strange question? Does her life ever influences you?"

She gave him a long, sideways look before answering, "Yeah actually. In my dreams, I, well the other me, had a step father. And when he drank he's accuse her mother of seeing other men and then he'd hit her. He use to beat my dream self too. I'd never been hit in my life, but suddenly I was closed off and unapproachable, showing all the classic signs of abuse. One day at school the teacher touched my arm and I started screaming. So of course they called social services on my mother and I had to explain that no one was hurting me, that I was just having bad dreams. The weird thing is, she doesn't remember it. Not completely. She remembers what he did to her mother, but doesn't seem to know that he ever hurt her. Maybe that's because he stopped when she was younger. Her memories of childhood are pretty sketchy at best.

"You know what's strange? I mean she had a really messed up childhood. Her father died young, she lost her mother to cancer as a teenager, and I can't begin to explain some really weird shit that happened to her at her daycare, but for all of the things that should make us completely different people, we've ended up at the same place in life. Same school, same program, even the same future goal."

"Which is?"

"I want to be a detective. FBI maybe. I think I've known what I wanted to be since I was nine."

"When I was nine years old, I think I wanted to be a brontosaurus. Must be nice, to know your place in the world, to know who you are. I'm still trying to figure that one out." He didn't dare say it then, but in that moment he was beginning to figure out exactly where he belonged. As crazy as it sounded, even to him, Peter was sure that he belonged with her.

Olivia, on the other hand, was already moving on to another question, "Do your memories ever repeat? Like, do you have reoccurring dreams?"

"Sometimes. Do you?"

"Yeah. What do you think that is?"

"I have no idea."

"I think it happens when the other me is asleep."

"But it's not real-"

"You don't think so?"

"How could it be?"

"I don't know. But if it's really all coming from me, if I'm somehow making it all up, I think I need help. Her life is just so dark. Except..."

"Except...?"

"I have this memory, it's actually one of the reoccurring dreams, and it's probably the most peaceful moment in her whole childhood, at least after her dad died, and the sad part is, she doesn't even remember it. I think she's suppressed a lot of that period, but it's such a nice moment. It's the middle of the night and she's sitting with a boy in a field of white flowers-"

"Tulips?"

"Yeah. They're just sitting there and she feels so safe and this is a kid, a person really, that never feels safe or at peace in the world, not even in her own skin."

"So they just sit there and after a while it starts to snow?"

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"That's my dream. The field of tulips, the snow, the little blond girl that run away. I've been dreaming about that moment since I was a kid."

"You're Peter?"

"Yeah. And your Olivia." They both fell silent as they waited for that to sink it.

"What are the chances we would meet in the same bar? There just isn't a point where this could get any weirder."

"I never wanted to believe in fate before, but I think we might have just proved its existence."

"You think that's what this is?"

"Yeah, when the woman of my dreams materializes in front of me, I'm going to go with fate."

"Then fates rather fickle, considering you have a girl friend."

"Well yeah, but you've got to look at the extenuating circumstances-" before Peter could invent some passable circumstances he was interrupted by this phone.

"And that would be her now."

"No, I've only been gone a day. She's not clingy. It's probably my dad. He is clingy," Peter looked between the ringing phone and his dreamy companion. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back, I promise."

And with that he hurried out the front door where he would have some hope of hearing.

"Hello Peter, it's Walter Bishop, your father."

"I know Dad. Can I call you back later. I'm just in the middle of something"

"I new project, Son?"

"Dad, I just met the woman I'm going to marry. She is literally the woman of my dreams."

"Well that's actually the reason I'm calling."

"How's that?"

"To tell you about my strange dream. I was walking with a very bald man in an old fashioned suit out by our lake house. He said that you were in trouble and were being led off of your life path. He wanted me to tell you that: 'some things were meant to stay dreams'. Isn't that marvelous?"

"Yeah dad. Listen. I've got to go. Give my love to mom."

Peter practically ran back into the bar and made a bee-line for where they had been sitting, but he found their bar stools empty. She was no where in sight.

*Daisy

* * *

><p>Olivia had every intention to waiting for him. She didn't wear her heart on her sleeve quite like he did, but if she was honest with herself she had to admit that she was feeling the same way. Feeling a connection to this stranger. She wanted to keep talking to him. To learn more about him. She wanted to keep talking about her dreams. What a rare privilege it was to have someone who could relate. She sat on her stool, nursing her drink, and willing him to come back. She heard footsteps behind her and was surprised by her own disappointment when she turned around and saw it wasn't him. Instead she saw a man, far too old to be a student, and so completely hairless he didn't even have eye brows. There was something strange in his manner that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but that gave him an impression that wasn't entirely human. When he spoke even the cadence of his voice set him apart, "Do you know first aid?"<p>

"Yes?" she said it more as a question, wondering what he was getting at.

"There is a man outside behind the bar who has been injured. You must go to him. He requires immediate assistance."

Olivia glanced up at the front doors regrettably, but followed the bald man to the back emergency exit. She was relieved when he didn't follow her through, and sure enough, upon leaving the building she immediately saw a man face down on the ground. Olivia rushed to his side and, after insuring that he didn't have a neck or spinal injury, very delicately rolled him on to his back. The man responded slightly at her touch. He seemed to be regaining consciousness. "Hi there. How are you feeling?"

The man was drifting back into reality, but Olivia could tell he was having a hard time focusing on her. "Hi?

"There you are. Looks like you've had an eventful night. What happened to you?"

"Someone hit me in the head from behind. I think I was mugged." Olivia had moved him into a sitting position and leaned him up against the wall to get a better look at his condition.

"Okay, what's your name?"

"Frank. Frank Stanton."

"Well Frank. I'm Olivia. I'm here to help you. I just need you to keep looking at me. Can you do that? Just stay focused on my eyes."

"You'd like me to gaze into your eyes?"

"Yeah something like that. So what are you doing out here Frank?"

"Nothing exciting, just coming home from the library."

"Oh yeah. What are you studying?"

"I'm in virology. I study viruses."

"Anything new in viruses lately?"

"Yeah actually. Always. That's what's so fascinating. In other fields you're stuck confirming the theories of men long since dead, but viruses are always changing. Always adapting. They've got personality. And they're fickle. You never know what they'll do next. That probably sounds pretty corny."

"Not at all. Besides, I figure, by saving you tonight I might just have saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives." His pupils were dilated and Olivia was pretty sure he had a concussion. She tried to keep him talking as she took a look at his head wound, "What do you specialize in?"

"Small pox."

"Well that's not very new. Wasn't the last case of small pox decades ago?"

"Yeah."

"Well then you should be looking into something more current. Something we still need to solve. What about the Ebola virus?"

"The Ebola virus? That's interesting. Why did you suggest that one?"

"The truth? It's the only virus I could think of off the top of my head."

He laughed at that and then winced, "Well you chose an interesting virus anyways."

"Good. Frank, I think you're going to be okay, but I'd like to take you to the hospital."

For the first time Frank tensed and tried to pull away from her, "No, no. I'm fine thanks."

"It looks like you're going to need a few stitches and at best you have a mild concussion."

"The trouble is I don't really have any insurance to speak of and I also have nothing in my bank account, so if there was a way to avoid that hospital I'd gladly take it."

"If I take you home, do you have someone that could stay with you over night."

"Sadly no. You could always stay with me. That's not a line, I swear."

"Yeah there's been a lot of non-line lines tonight. Do you have a girl friend?"

"No."

"Okay. But this isn't some slutty nurse fantasy. I'm just there to insure you don't end up in a coma."

"You could always wake me with a kiss." Olivia gave him a stern look. "Sorry, that was an attempt at a line. Remember that I have head trauma."

"I'll let it slide this once." Olivia stood up, gently raised Frank onto his feet, and threw his arm over her shoulder. "Lead on. Where's home for you?"

As the two figures walked away into the night, three bald heads gazed after them.

"She almost didn't come."

"There was a complication. It has been resolved," said the man who had sought her out in the first place.

"She was in contact with the boy. The one September saved in the other world."

"How is that possible? They were never meant to meet in this world."

"I do not know, but I have set them back on course."

"Those two are problematic, regardless of their universe. You must watch them closely. They cannot meet again. Many lives depend on it."

*Hand


	2. Chapter 2: Dream A Little Dream of You

A/N Thanks for the reviews.

Chapter 2 - Dream A Little Dream of You

Many years had past and Peter was finally able to put that dream and his strange encounter behind him. His fleeting devotion to the idea of fate had left him as quickly as it had come and he had no patience for those who believed in it. He had committed himself to reality and did his best to dismiss and forget his dreams upon waking. His academic indecision had followed him out of college and for a time he wander aimlessly through careers, but he had been teaching at MIT for nearly two years now and he'd had a girl friend for almost all that time. His life was finally starting to come together. At least that's what he thought.

"Peter, what are you doing?"

"Right now. Well I'm eating, Mom." Two bites into his peas and Peter already regretted inviting his parents over for dinner. He had always had a good relationship with them, but going on a year now his mother never seemed satisfied. She was a woman of drive and determination. She could be supportive of his career changes, even if she couldn't relate, but she truly liked Peter's girlfriend, and she was under the impression that Peter was stalling.

"I meant with your life. You've been dating Nicole for two years now. When are you going to take action? You're not as young as you think you are."

"Thanks, once again, for the pep talk, Mom, but as I've told you before, Nicole and I are taking things slow. We know we want to be together, we just don't want to rush into anything. I promise I will provide you with grandchildren. You just have to wait a little longer."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, "You know that's not my concern. I'm only thinking of you. She makes you happy. And she's the perfect woman for you, ambitious, driven, bright enough to keep up with you." She folded her napkin and set it down on the table. On her way to the rest room she added, "I just don't know what's holding you back."

Peter stared at his half finished plate and longed for the food to evaporate. Longed for a remote control that would fast forward his night until he was alone, lying in bed.

"I think I know," in his frustration with his mother, Peter had almost forgotten that his father was still in the room.

"What do you know, dad?"

"I know what's holding you back. _The woman of your dreams_. You think she's still out there."

"Dad that was a long time ago."

"There's nothing more subjective than time, son. Especially when it comes to love."

"I love Nicole."

"But is she the person you intend to spend the rest of your life with?" Peter didn't have an answer to that. He'd given up on planning "the rest of his life". He had found he could stay in one place better if he merely planned to tomorrow. He hesitated too long and now he and Walter knew that that in itself was an answer. "If not, you should be honest with her. And yourself."

_Hand

* * *

><p><em>Olivia never intended to end up here. Dinner was one thing. She could justify dinner to herself. And even if it felt more like a date, well, hadn't they always been flirty with one another. Wasn't that just the way they were. When he had suggested a motel room she had actually laughed out laugh, confident that he was joking, even more confident that she would never actually follow through with that. Even as she park her car and knocked three times on number six, even as she step inside and slipped off her coat, she never intended anything to happen, but now it had. She knew him so well that everything was familiar, even while being completely foreign. His eyes, his lips, his hands, all familiar items, suddenly finding new employment. They should stop. They were partners, there were rules. They should just walk away. But Olivia already knew she wouldn't. She couldn't stop if she tried. <em>

"Good morning" the voice called her back to herself. It wasn't the one she was expecting. Slowly she pulled herself out of the deep pit of sleep. The motel was gone. She was in her bed and Frank had his arms wrapped around her. He began to kiss her neck.

"Aren't you friendly this morning."

"You were moaning in your sleep. I thought I'd wake you up for the real thing. So your dream self is finally getting some action? Did she meet her own Frank Stanton?"

"She should be so lucky." She kissed him and did her best to push the dream out of her head. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. None of us can control our dreams. And I think yours are even further outside the realm of control. I'm not the jealous type," and with that he kissed the tip of her nose. "Is it someone we know?"

"No" she said very softly, shaking her head. She hated lying to Frank, but since she was privy to someone else's broken life, she reserved the right to censor what other people knew about it.

Face*

* * *

><p>As different as Olivia was from her dream double, the similarities where enough to really give credence to the idea of fate. At least that was the way that Olivia saw it. Different childhoods, different memories, and yet, some how both Olivia Dunhams had ended up in Boston, Massachusetts, working in the Federal Building, with the same team. Most notably: John Scott and Charlie Francis. It was the latter that she was looking for as she race down the halls to her office.<p>

"Agent Dunham, only 30 minutes early for your shift. Over sleep?"

"That's clever Charlie. It's your incredible wit that makes you simply irresistible with the ladies."

"It's a wonder you've remained faithful to Frank all this time." At his jest Olivia's whole faced changed, "Liv, what's up?"

"Nothing. You're going to think I'm crazy."

"Don't worry. I know you're crazy. What's going on?"

"I've told you about my dreams before."

"Yeah, parallel life, different you, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah well, last night in my dream, the other me... slept with John."

"You slept with John?"

"No, _I_ didn't, and keep your voice down."

"Liv this is nothing to worry about. So what if in your sleep you want to bone your partner, it's fine."

"I don't. It's like a completely different world. I should not have told you this."

"No you really shouldn't have. I can't believe it was John though. The way you describe your other self I sound more like her type."

"Who's type?" Olivia's cheeks burned as she realized John Scott had just walked into the room.

"Olivia's. We're trying to decide who she was more likely to sleep with, me or you."

"Definitely me. I'm the pretty one."

"It's true, he is pretty."

"Charlie, what's the case?" Olivia said, in a last ditch effort to save herself any more trauma.

"Oh you're going to like this one, Liv. It's weird."

Frog_

* * *

><p>"Well there's something you don't see everyday." John was right. The crime scene was familiar enough. A homeless looking man found dead in an industrial area. Lying in an alley behind a row of warehouses. It was the victim that made this case unusual, every orifice has been completely sealed over by skin. The man was literally faceless. "Are we sure it's safe to be here?"<p>

"The CDC and the medical examiner have already looked at the body. Whatever killed him, they don't think we're likely to get infected."

"How comforting."

Olivia bent down to get a closer look, "Any clue who he is?"

John consulted the file, "Victim's name is Mark Fletcher. Oh he's a fed. Left the Bureau in '95 for "mental health" reasons. I guess we'll probably all end up like him one day." Olivia shot him a disapproving look. "Don't worry, Liv, I intend to die in the line of duty."

"Well, wherever I end up I think my choice of drug will continue to be whiskey."

"Track marks?"

"Yeah, old ones too."

"Anything fresh?"

"It's hard to tell. It seems like every small cut or scrap has completely sealed over. Do they have any idea what he's been expose to? Have they found anything in the area?"

"Garbage mostly. It's all bagged and tagged. And as for what happened to him, the sciences geeks are working on it as we speak. We're just here so the Bureau doesn't have to air it's dirty laundry in front of other law enforcement."

John was probably right, but something about the case unnerved Olivia. She stared down at the body, into what used to be the man's face, "Let's just hope he's the only one."

Leaf*

* * *

><p>Hard as the day had been, Olivia felt as though it fell off her shoulders with her jacket. Her apartment was warm and inviting. <em>A sanctuary from our nightmarish jobs<em> Frank had once called it, and it felt like that today. "What smells so good?"

"Roasted Mediterranean sea bass with an avocado, grapefruit, and olive salad. I thought we should celebrate." He kissed her lightly and handed her a glass of white wine.

"What are we celebrating?"

"I was offered a job today. They're looking for someone to go to Guatemala to study a recent out break of the Ebola virus. There's over 200 dead so far. Seven survivors, and at least two people that appear to be immune. This isn't the first time that reports of immunity have come out of that region, so I think that will be one of the focuses of the study."

Olivia was aglow with pride, "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you. How long is it? When would you leave?"

"I'd have to leave in about a month. And the contract is for 2 - 3 years. They're interested in the aftermath of the virus."

Olivia nearly choked on her wine. Over the course of their relationship both of their jobs had pulled them apart for a time and there was an unspoken pack between the two of them to always be supportive and never stand in the other's way. Even still, they had never been apart for that long. Olivia tried to keep smiling, even if it wasn't as genuine as before. Frank let her squirm for a while before continuing. "I'm going to turn them down."

"Why?" She asked, trying to hide the relief from her voice, "The job is perfect for you."

"It is. It's my dream job, no question. But I realized that there was no way I could spent two years without you."

Olivia smiled, her whole body relaxing again. "So why the nice dinner?"

"Well, today I realized that I just can't live without you. And that seemed to warrant a celebration."

"I couldn't agree more, let's eat."

Seahorse_

* * *

><p>Frank had been honest when he said he wasn't a jealous man. He never had been before. Olivia had never really given him cause and whatever her dream-self actually was, but by all accounts she seemed asexual. A few flings over the years. Nothing serious. But this time, it was serious. Night after night he felt like an outsider in his own bed and he could feel jealousy bubbling up inside him, waiting to boil over. He kept a lid on it as best as he could, but it was always there, just below the surface, and one day, the universe decided to crank up the heat. She was moaning again. He tried to wake her, and out of the depths of sleep she called out, "John?". That was it. The last bits of control he had left him behind, and from there he couldn't help himself. He saw deceit in everything. All her words seem to be double meanings and innuendo. One morning as she was recounting an antidote about how surprisingly bad John was at poker Frank blurted out, "Are you in love with him?" Olivia just stared at him without comprehension. "John, are you in love with him?"<p>

"What? No! How could you even think that?"

"You dream about him every night."

Olivia blushed and looked away, but only for a moment, then she was gazing right back at him, "I don't have any control over my dreams."

"Bullshit." The look on her face shame him and he tried to even out his tone, "I know you can't control them, but if you make love to him every night in your dreams doesn't that suggest it's something you want, something you desire?"

"It's what she wants, not me. We're not the same."

"How can that be?"

"I don't know. But I've told you what her life has been like. You think I wanted any of that?" It was Franks turn to look away. "I don't love John. I love you."

"Then what's stopping you?" Another questioning look. "We've been together nearly 8 years, Liv..."

His unfinished question hung in the air between them. "You never asked."

"You never mentioned it, so I figured... Okay fine. Now I'm asking."

"Like this? In the middle of a fight."

"Sure," he said, anger rising in him again, "will you marry me?"

"Right now I don't even want to be in the same room as you."

"Fine, not marriage, then, just..." He paused, collecting himself. Olivia could see the anger draining off of him. When he spoke again, it was almost more pleading, "Just tell me if I'm the person you are meant to be with."

If he had asked if he was the person she loved or the person she wanted, she would have immediately agreed. Even in her anger she knew those things to be true. But he asked if they were "meant to be" and fate, being as fickle as ever, made her hesitate. He took that as his answer and left without another word.

Leaf_

* * *

><p>When Olivia arrived home from work that evening, Frank had already moved out. She tried to reach him at work, but was informed that he was already on route to Guatemala, having taken the job at the last minute.<p>

Did Olivia miss him? Of course. But what she found most strange was how comfortable and familiar her own solitude was. She had lived with Frank for six years and yet she adapted to living on her own almost immediately. Maybe it was just another echo from her dreams. Maybe living alone each night was good practice for reality. Or perhaps solitude was a more natural state for her, regardless of what world she was living in. It wasn't until that night, when she lay down and reached over to the other side of the bed and found it empty, that she really felt alone.

_Apple

* * *

><p><em>The air was hot and dry, rich with the scent of spices and flavoured tobacco, chocolate maybe, or raspberry. Sweat made her clothing sticky and stung her eyes, but Olivia didn't notice any of this. She didn't even feel the ache of her forehead where it had split open, or the stiffness of her body from being thrown into a wall. Her brain ignored every sensation, fear and adrenaline keeping her tightly focused on the task at hand. She had to find him. Far fetched as it was, she had only one hope, and he was the key. Whether he wanted to or not, he was coming with her. She <em>couldn't_ take "no" for an answer. And there he was, walking towards her, lost in his own thoughts._

"_Peter Bishop? Olivia Dunham, I'm with the FBI" _

On different sides of the city, two people woke up from the same dream with the same thought running through their heads, _Now I know your name._

Frog_


	3. Chapter 3: Somewhere Out There

Chapter 3: Somewhere Out There

Although their shift didn't officially start for another hour, Charlie Francis was not surprised to find Olivia already at her workstation. "You know I think we should have a talk about your chronic earliness. I think it's a symptom of a bigger problem, a lack of a life for one thing." When he got no responses he turned his attention to what she was looking at on her monitor, "Peter. Bishop. Is he related to one of our cases?"

That time he was sure that Olivia had heard him. She stared at the screen a moment longer before turning to face him. "No."

"Then who is he?"

Again Olivia hesitated. "Do you remember when I told you about the first time Frank and I met? That I had met another guy that night?"

Charlie searched through his memory banks, "Yeah he... the two of you... Wasn't he the only other person that you've met that dreams like you?" As soon as Charlie said it he realized the implication. "Please don't tell me this has something to do with your dreams."

Olivia only shrugged, "He was in my dream last night. This is him." She tried to gage Charlie's reaction before continuing. "I'm taking today off. A personal day. Can you cover for me?"

Charlie looked between her and the screen, "Liv, you're not doing what I think you're doing?"

"I have to find him. I have to at least talk with him again."

"Why? Liv I really don't think this is a good idea. Everything with Frank is just so new. You're going through a lot. I don't think you should be running off to meet this guy."

"It's not what you think."

"Then why now? Why haven't you found him before?"

"I couldn't before. When we met... I only learned his full name last night in my dream."

"That's... that's how you found him?" Olivia only nodded. "You must have known it Livy, it must have been buried in your mind somewhere."

"Trust me, it wasn't. Or else I would have looked him up sooner. Will you help me, Charlie?"

"Okay. But for the record, I still think this is a bad idea. Get going. And tell me how it goes."

_Seahorse

* * *

><p>Peter had woken up with the same overwhelming desire to find Olivia, but without access to FBI databases his search took a little longer. The fact that she wasn't listed in the phone book, detailed him for a moment, but then he remembered what she had said in the dream just before he woke up, "<em>I'm with the FBI".<em> Hadn't that been the path both Olivia and her dream self had been heading towards all those years ago? It was his only lead, so he went with it. He Googled her. There were plenty of unrelated results, but he did manage to find an article that quoted Agent Olivia Dunham with the Federal Bureau of Investigations, and although it was small, he could make out a thin, athletic woman with blond hair in the background of the photo. It was her. Without another thought he got into his car and was on his way to the Federal Building.

Peter wasn't really sure what he was going to say when he got there, but he was used to being able to talk his way into anything. So it surprised him that the woman at the information desk wouldn't even call up to see if Agent Dunham was in.

"I'm sorry sir. This is an inappropriate way for a civilian to contact an agent. Do you have a scheduled meeting with her."

"No-"

"Do you have information related to one of her cases?"

"No. We're childhood friends. I was in town and thought I would look her up."

The receptionist would have none of it. "I would suggest contacting her by other means."

"We haven't seen each other in years. I don't know her current number. Can you just call up? I'm sure she wants to see me. Just call her and ask."

"As I've said, that is not something that I can do. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

_Apple

* * *

><p>Charlie rarely used the main entrance of the building. It was always swarming with people, but it was the shortest walk to Misty's Diner, and he just needed a bagel and cream cheese to get him through to lunch. There was some kind of commotion at the information desk, but he ignored it. At least until he heard, "Can you just leave her a message? Tell her Peter Bishop is here to see her."<p>

Charlie froze. He looked back over at the information booth and saw a man being escorted out by security. The same man he had seen on Olivia's monitor that morning. Against his better judgment he intervened. "I'll take him from here." The guards backed off and he walked Peter outside of the building. "Who did you come here to see?"

"Agent Olivia Dunham. Look, I know it's not procedure, but could you just call her or ask her to come down or something?"

"Well, Olivia's not here today. How do you know her?"

"We knew each other as kids," Peter said evasively.

Charlie looked at him closely, trying to decide what he should do. "Liv's a friend of mine actually, I think she might have mentioned you before, when did you last see each other?"

A strange look passed over Peter's face and after years of interrogations Charlie knew the look immediately. It was the look of someone that was searching for a true statement that didn't sound as crazy at the full truth. "We ran into each other again in college at a bar," he said at last.

Charlie could feel himself giving into the insanity of it all, but he still needed to be convinced, "Why did you come here today, Mr. Bishop?"

Again a pause, "This is going to sound nuts, but I had a dream about her last night, and I just needed to see her."

Charlie sighed. "Okay, I will give you the address of her building. Wait there. I'll send her your way if I can reach her. Just... don't make me regret this."

_Apple

* * *

><p>Olivia had been all over Cambridge. She'd waited outside Peter's house, talked to his neighbours, went to his office at MIT, questioned his colleagues, but all for not. No one knew where he was and although she had been given his cell phone number it just rang and rang, and no one ever picked up. By the afternoon she was inclined to think that there was a reason she couldn't find him. That maybe it just wasn't meant to be. When she got back to her car she noticed she had six missed calls from Charlie. She must have left her phone in the car.<p>

"What's up, Charlie? Couldn't make it through the day without me?"

"Just wondering how it's going."

"No luck. I'm leaving now. Wanna get a an earlier dinner or something?"

"Nah, it's okay-"

"How about just a drink then. You can tell me all about how misguided my mission was."

"Actually Liv, I _really_ think you should go home."

Face*

* * *

><p>Although it was much earlier than she usually got home, Olivia felt exhausted. She parked her car and walked up to her building. There was a man sitting on the stairs but he stood up to let her pass. Their eyes met for a moment and Olivia stopped dead in her tracks. So did Peter. For long moment they just looked at each other. "Hi," she said at last.<p>

"Hi."

"Don't you ever pick up your phone?"

Peter checked his pockets, "Must have left it at home. I was in a bit of a rush this morning," a board smile spread across his face.

"Have you been here long?"

"A good chunk of the day. You sure took your time."

"I was in Cambridge looking for you. How did you know where I lived?"

"Well, as it turns out the FBI aren't big on giving out person information about their agents. Fortunately Agent Francis told me where to find you. So you were looking for me too?" She smiled shyly and nodded. "I guess you found me."

Neither of them knew what to say and neither of them cared, they were just enjoying the view. "Do you want to come up?"

"Yeah." And so Peter followed her up the stairs to her apartment. "So you're both FBI agents, just like you planned. That's pretty impressive."

"Because the other me and I followed through on our plans or because we ended up in the same place?"

"Both really."

"Yeah, I guess the closest you get to your counter part is that he once conned his way into teaching at MIT."

"What do you think gave me the idea?"

She left out a laugh as she unlocked her door, "You're kidding?"

"No that's the truth. I mean he's got to be good for something, right?"

As distracted as she was, Olivia immediately sensed there was something wrong. Her gun was out and trained on the intruder before Peter even noticed he was in the room. A bald man in a suit stepped out of the shadows. Without an ounce of fear he said, "I must speak to you. It is of grave importance. I am concerned that if things are not set right, it will have dire consequences for your world."

_Hand


	4. Chapter 4: Warnings

Chapter 4: Warnings

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

A chill ran down Peter spine. This strange man had echoed Olivia perfectly, except that he had spoken at exactly the same time.

"How are you doing that? Stop it. What do you want from us?" Each time she spoke he was there with her in perfect unison. After a while she stop trying, but she kept her gun aimed at his head.

"I am not suppose to interfere, but I must speak with you both."

"I recognize you. You were the man in the bar. You told me to help Frank."

"Yes." The man glanced around at the apartment, taking in the bareness of it, the half lived in quality. "Where is Frank?"

Peter shot Olivia a sideways glance. "He's away on business."

"Pity. Was it your dreams that led you to each other once again?" Peter and Olivia didn't answer, but the way they quickly looked at each other gave them away. "They are more than mere dreams. I do not know why, but you are able to see into another world. Another universe. In that universe Peter Bishop and Olivia Dunham must meet. The fate of their world depends on it, but in this universe you have different paths. Paths that are no less crucial, but with a marked difference: you were never meant to meet. I fear that remaining in each other's company will result in grave consequences for your world. Perhaps it already has. You must not see each other again." For the first time the man looked away from them. "I must go," and with that he simply disappeared.

Peter and Olivia stare transfixed at the area he used to inhabit. After a long moment Olivia lowered her gun. Peter was the first to break the silence, "Who or what was he?"

"I don't know, but I think the me in the other universe would call that 'fringe event'."

"Okay, but what he said is impossible, right? I mean, beyond just the idea of alternate universes, it's even crazier to suggest that the world could end based on whether or not two people meet."

"I don't know what to think. I mean he just disappeared."

"Strange as that is it doesn't lend any support to his argument. I mean beyond the fact that he is clearly something we've never encountered before, we really have no reason to believe him." Even Peter didn't sound too convinced, but he was willing to put it behind him for the time being. "So, is Frank your boyfriend?"

"Wow, you are going to skip right over the end of the world implication to ask me that?"

"Well like I said, I don't think seeing you tonight will end the world. Besides I've been working up to this all day, the bald guy only got here two minutes ago."

This made Olivia laugh; she tried to follow his lead and push the man out of her head. At least for the moment. "He was my boyfriend. Until a couple of days ago, actually. How about you? Do you have a girlfriend this time?"

"I did until about month ago. I liked her. Loved her actually, but, I don't know, there was always something holding me back."

"That's what Frank accused me of."

"What on Earth could it have been?" Peter locked eyes with her.

The moment was broken by Olivia's phone. "Hey Charlie, calling to check up on us?"

"I wish. Sorry to have to do this to you Livy, but I need you to come out to a crime scene. We've got another faceless victim."

Peter could see Olivia's body straighten. Her features became a mask. In a matter of seconds she had transformed into what he imagined her work-self must be. A cold, observant, investigator. "I understand. I'll see you there." When she turned back to Peter the mask slipped a little. She made a face, "I have to go. But I have your number now. And I can give you mine. We're not strangers anymore. We can do this again. We can be... friends." Olivia grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

"It was good to see you again, Olivia Dunham."

She smiled at him, "It's good to see you too, Peter Bishop."

Hand*

* * *

><p>Their latest crime scene was in the middle of a park. The faceless victim had been found face down in the mud, but he had already been removed by the time Olivia arrived on the scene. "Where's John?"<p>

"Sitting on the ME to make sure that we get the autopsy results tonight. How's your night going?"

"Good. Strange. It could have ended better." Olivia turned her attention to the scene, "It looks like there's some foot prints in the mud. Has anyone taken a cast of them?"

"Yeah, we even got a match."

"The victim's?" Olivia said, disappointed.

"Yeah, and that's where it get's strange."

"Why's that strange?"

"Well Private Adam Lindsay is an Iraq war vet. Wounded in action. He broke his spine, Liv. This man has been in a paraplegic for the past two years."

"So where's his wheel chair? How did he get here?"

"As far as we can tell, he walked."

Leaf*

* * *

><p>For a while Olivia had been holding on to the hope that she would end earlier enough to grab a late drink with Peter, but since John didn't arrive with the coroner's report until after midnight, she gave up that notion and devoted herself to the task at hand. She pored over the report while John and Charlie looked at witness statements and crime scene photos. "It says here that Private Lindsay was exposed to a virus similar to the one that infected Mark Fletcher, but that there are slight differences. And neither are anything that the EM has seen in nature."<p>

"So does she think someone is _making _these viruses?" John asked, turning his attention way from his monitor.

"That's what it's looking like. The virus seems to attack the cells and cause a kind of rapid mitosis, but in the case of Private Lindsay it first targeted the nerve cells of his spine, effectively repairing them."

"So you think someone meant to cure him?"

"Or it's a side effect. But it does seem like an incredible coincidence."

"Bioterrorist with a heart?"

"What have you got on the victims? Please tell me you have something to connect them?"

"Nothing. They never worked together, no mutual acquaintances that we can find. Heck they didn't even live in the same city until this year and I don't see how they could have come in contact. Fletcher has been in and out of half a dozen shelters in that time and Lindsay's been living at a vet's hospital. Drug free I might add. I just don't know why anyone would target these people."

"Maybe they're guinea pigs," Charlie said, joining the conversation for the first time.

"To what end?"

"I don't know, but if this virus is different than the first one, maybe that's because someone is changing it and then testing out the results."

John and Olivia shot each other a nervous glance. She voiced what she knew they were both thinking, "If that's the case, we are going to see a lot more victims before this is over."

_Daisy

* * *

><p><em>Olivia felt like she was losing her grip on everything. Not like she was falling, more like she was floating away from Earth and there was nothing to ground her. She had done the impossible. She had saved him. But it didn't matter. He was dead. He had betrayed her. And he was dead. They told her to go home, but how could she? Not when she'd seen this much. Not when there was still so much left to know. To understand. Who was he really? How could she have trusted him? She arrived at Harvard just in time. And for the second time in as many days she had to persuade Peter to follow her lead. This time she needed him to stay. She stumbled through her speech, no threats, no blackmail, just the truth, as near as she could get. She was shaking and she couldn't meet his eyes, but he had to help her this time. Who else would? "Where's John?" She ignored his question, and asked again. Walter called out to him. Asked if they were leaving. He looked at her and hesitated. It was enough. She knew he'd stay. And for what felt like the first time in her whole life, she smiled. <em>

Face*_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Olivia woke up with a start. <em>John's dead. He betrayed me. <em>She was on the edge of a panic attack. She had to concentrate hard on taking deeper breaths. _It's just a dream. I saw him last night. He's fine. He's not a traitor... _ But she couldn't make that statement with the same kind of certainty. Her breathing and pulse had returned to normal, but this thought was enough to make her queasy. Did she really know John Scott? The phone rang and she picked it up without even glancing at it.

"John didn't betray you, it was just a dream." It was Peter, reading her mind from twenty miles away.

"Some things are the same-"

"And some things are very different. Just look at me. He's not a traitor Olivia. Did you trust him before this?"

"Yes, but so did she."

"She was...distracted. He wouldn't betray you.

"You've never met him."

"No. But I trust your judgment. We can't let their lives interfere with ours."

Olivia decided to not mention that the only reason they were speaking to each other was because they had let the "other universe" interfere with their lives. She wasn't ready to ignore the otherworldly revelation about John, but that sickly feeling the base of her stomach was beginning to fade.

"How was the case last night? Anything top secret?"

"It was an older case actually. One that has more place in their lives than in ours. Last night we found the second victim in a month that was exposed to some sort of engineered virus that caused his orifices to be sealed over with skin." Olivia didn't often discuss her cases outside of work. Even with Frank she was vague on the details, but she didn't feel any of these restriction with Peter.

"How is that possible?"

"We're not sure. To be honest, we don't know much. I wish Frank were here." There was silence on the other end of the phone and Olivia felt the need to explain her thinking. "Frank's a virologist. A good one, too. I'd love to get his opinion."

"Isn't there some means of contacting him."

"I've tried. He's pretty far out. No internet, no phones. I was given the address of a PO box in town that someone from the village checks every three to five weeks, but beyond that there is no way to reach him."

"Do you think this case is why that man asked about Frank last night?"

"You think this virus is the "dire consequences" he warned about?"

"I don't know, is it the kind that could wipe out the whole world?" Olivia was silent; lost in thought. "Well, I've got no great solution for contacting Frank, but I do have access to virologist if you'd like one."

_Apple

* * *

><p>Even though Peter assured Olivia that it wasn't the case, she was still expecting Walter Bishop's Harvard lab to be a subterranean room filled with children's toys and a cow. And as a result, she was perhaps the only person to find his sizable, second floor office, with an adjacent microbiology lab strange and out of place. The man himself, however, was exactly as she had imagined him. "Hello Agent Dunham. It is so very good to meet you. Peter has told me marvelous things about you. In fact, the first time he met you he told me that you were the woman he was going to marry."<p>

Olivia shot Peter a look and his ears turned a little red. "Thanks, Dad, that was just the story I wanted you to share. Why don't you fill Agent Dunham in on your observations about the case so far?"

"Ah yes. Fascinating case. This virus is simple wonderful."

"I think you mean to say, twisted, and debilitating."

"Hardly son. I mean the creator of it has managed to accomplish what scientists long sought, a cure for the incurable."

"Yeah, but it killed this man."

"It must still be unstable, but look at the progression. In your first victim all of the cells began to experience hypermitosis, it was easiest to observe in the skin because skin cells are one of fastest reproducing cells in the body. We lose and replace between 30 000 and 40 000 skin cells every minute. I would hypothesize that if these men hadn't asphyxiated we would have seen the affects of this virus throughout the body, most likely occurring as a series of tumors. But in the case of the second victim, Sargent Linky-"

"Private Lindsay."

"The virus seems to have targeted the spine first, and only later spread to the rest of the body."

"But why cure him only to kill him?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps they haven't perfected the virus or they were through with him and didn't want him as a witness. I would be happy to do more, however I will need two things to continue on with the investigation. I would like the bodies shipped to my lab so that I can run my own analysis of them."

"That shouldn't be a problem. And the other thing?"

"Hmm?"

"The other thing you were asking for, Dad?"

"Oh. A rice crispy square. I have been craving one ever since I started reviewing the case this morning." And with that, Dr. Bishop seemed to wonder away from them towards the refrigerator.

Olivia gave Peter a look. "He's just like the Walter in the other world."

"I know. It's strange isn't it?"

"But how can that be? I mean he didn't spend any time in a mental institution, did he?"

"No, but he's always had a few screws missing."

"Did he ever conduct Fringe Science?"

"What's that, Agent Dunham?"

"I was just wondering how you ended up in virology and if there was any other field of interest you considered pursuing."

"Oh yes, a good deal of them I should say. I always wanted to understand how the world works. How it works and how we could change it. Fascinating topics. But something happened to me as a young man that greatly shaped where I ended up."

"What was that?"

"I knocked a girl up. Even condoms are not 100% effective. You two should be aware of this. And to be honest, in our day we didn't always remember contraceptives. But that is beside the point. I was only 20 when he was born, not Peter, mind you, his name was Matthew. I had always assumed I'd go into the academics, but I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed fatherhood. He was only two when he got sick. He had a type of flu, H3N2, it was raging it's way through China at the time. In the States it was very uncommon and no one knew what to do about it. So I did my best. Learned everything I could about influenza, viruses, vaccines, and cures. I was determined to save my son. I couldn't though. There just wasn't enough time. I felt broken after that. Didn't know how I was supposed to go on. So I threw myself into my work. Learned everything I could about viruses, learned so much that I was soon making discoveries on my own. My wife left me of course, and my sanity always seemed about ready to give up on me too. But in the end, Matthew's life wasn't meaningless. You see. I did eventually remarry and I had another wonderful son. And when Peter was a boy, he got very sick. He had a disease similar to Hepia, a form of bird flu. No one had seen the disease for decades and there had only been one recorded survivor. But you see, I was already well versed in this information. I was able to cure Peter. One son helped me to save the other." Walter had been staring off into space, lost to his memories. But he came back to himself, "Please let me know when the bodies will be released to me and do stop by any time, Agent Dunham."

"Thanks for your help, Dr. Bishop."

"I see you later, Dad."

Olivia and Peter were nearly at the door before Walter called out to them, "Oh, are either of you hungry?" Before they could answer Walter continued. "Because the cafeteria makes the most amazing Italian Wedding soup on Wednesdays and since you're here anyways, you might was well get lunch together."

Olivia suppressed a laugh. Peter merely said, "Good bye, Dad," as he closed the office door.

Frog_


	5. Chapter 5: Routines

Chapter 5: Routines

Olivia marveled at the way even the strangest things could become routine. Every morning when she woke up the phone would ring. It was always Peter. As she got ready for work they'd discuss their dreams, their other selves, and the crazy 'adventures' they seemed to get into. Her dreams had gone from something very personal, to something communal, like a favourite TV show, with the two of them discussing everyone's motivations and making predictions about what would happen next. They also began talking about their lives, their jobs, family, everything really, and so after a matter of weeks it really felt like they were childhood friends.

"What are you up to today?" Peter asked as he placed two pieces of bread in the toaster.

Olivia was searching under her couch for her left shoe, "I'm actually meeting with your father. He's discovered something "tremendous" about the case. I told him he can give me updates by phone or email, but he insisted on meeting in person."

Peter laughed, "Yeah, he does better when it's face to face."

"To be honest, I wish you were coming. Sometimes I think you're the only on that speaks _Walter_."

Peter nearly dropped his toast. "Are you meeting with him this morning? I could come?"

"No, that's okay. I don't want steal you away from your work."

"You wouldn't be. I'm on sabbatical, remember? Which officially means that I'm writing several papers that may one day be turned into a book. In reality it means that I reorganize my home office, stare out the window, and take apart and reassemble the electronics in my house. Please save me from myself."

So Peter joined Olivia and acted as her translator, and soon, this too, became routine. Whenever Walter had new information or a hypothesis about the case the pair would join him in his lab and then, if time allowed, indulge in the cafeteria's soup of the day. There were definitely times when Olivia had to question Walter's ulterior motives, most notably the time he divulged his theory that the killer was partial to flannel pajamas because a reoccurring protein sequence in the virus. But if she was honest with herself, she didn't mind. She enjoyed her time with the Bishops. In a strange way it always felt like coming home.

_Hand

* * *

><p>Dr. Bishop was making some progress, but from the FBI's point of view, the case was going no where. They had no leads, no connection between the victims, and absolutely no motive. They didn't even have a working theory, until a whole group of victims were discovered at a rehabilitation hospital.<p>

Eight faceless bodies greeted Olivia and John as they arrived at the scene. The victims were all paraplegics who were involved in a study of a new treatment that was hoped to increase mobility. Well, for six hours it looked like it had done that and more. All eight men were able to stand up and after a while, were even walking around the room. The celebrations were cut short when the first few men started experiencing a strange growth. Within ten minutes, all of the men were dead of asphyxiation.

"Do we have any clue how they were exposed to it?" Olivia asked, taking in the scene.

"Not yet. They're going over this place with a fine toothcomb. Maybe we'll get lucky this time."

Olivia glanced over the computer terminals, vaguely taking in all of the data that had been generated about this group. "They're a perfect choice of victim. All their medical history would be available and you'd even be able observe the affects of the virus in real time. Okay, so either our perp hacked into the system or they are part of the medical staff here."

"Well this doesn't rule out the fine people of Spaulding Hospital, but I had the lab guys check the computer system, and it does appear that all data pertaining to this case was duplicated from an outside source." John moved closer to the terminal to see what Olivia was looking at. Instinctively she moved away. She didn't want to believe that John was working against her, in fact she had never seen anything that supported that view, but she couldn't be completely comfortable with him either.

John noticed her flinch. He glanced around the room, insuring they were alone, before broaching a subject that had been on this mind a lot lately.

"So, be honest with me. In that crazy dream world of yours, did we have a really bad break up, or what?" Olivia nearly choked. "I figured they must have been in a relationship, because a couple of months ago you got very strange with me. Strictly business and definitely no sexual innuendo. Which I assumed was just a reflection of your complete inability to deal with complex human emotions, no offense. But lately, you act like I'm something completely _other_. Like we're strangers or something. So I had to ask."

"We didn't break up. You... you died. In my... her arms."

He tilted his head and looked into her eyes, searching for the truth. "I'm not dead, Livy. And I'm not him. Can't we just be us again?"

She nodded and tried to smile. The truth was, she didn't know.

_Butterfly

* * *

><p>Walter Bishop could confirm the Medical Examiner's suspicion that, just as before, the virus was similar, but a slight variation on the previous victims. He was perhaps too delighted that he would have new bodies to examine, and upon their arrival, was so distracted he barely noticed the departure of Peter and Olivia.<p>

Hand_

* * *

><p>Thursday was butternut swash soup. The pair each had a bowl and split a grilled cheese sandwich. "When your father's done examining the bodies we should get him to make a list of any scientist he can think of that would be capable of this kind of work. I've got my own list going. Actually, Charlie's running background checks on them as we speak."<p>

"You've got some suspects?"

"Not exactly. I've been making notes about the cases investigated in the other world. I figure even if the events are different, criminals on their side are probably criminals on our side." Peter raised his eyebrows. "Present company excluded. Anyway, since this case fits better into their universe that ours, I thought I should take a look at their most likely suspects. First off, Dr. Claus Penrose-"

"The man that created a child that aged at an exponential rate? Yeah, doing terrible things for what he deemed a good reason is right up his ally. Who else?"

"Jacob Fischer-"

"Horrible experiments on human subjects."

"-and David Esterbrook."

"The one you met in our dreams last night? The sociopath path that sees no moral limits to science? Yeah, assuming these men are anything like their counterparts they're as good a place to start as any."

"I also want to look into William Bell."

This was the only name that surprised Peter, "Why Bell?"

"It just seems like everything they investigate leads back to him. Like he's somehow at the centre of the pattern, so maybe he'll have some insight into our own fringe science."

"By that logic my Dad should be a suspect too."

"You're right, so far he seems the most likely of any of them. I'll add him to the list."

Peter smiled, but the idea of Walter as a killer reminded him of another recent revelation. "Why didn't you ever tell me about her stepfather?"

It took Olivia a moment to catch up to the change in the conversation, "I did. The first time we met."

"You didn't tell me she tried to kill him." Olivia merely looked at her soup. "That's got to be a hard thing to live with, even if you're only a spectator."

"It can be, but I'm fine Peter. Besides, your alternate was already helping me out last night." She paused, her mind drifting back to the two of them on the bench outside Peter's hotel. It was the first time the other her felt... something. Something neither Olivia was quite ready to acknowledge. "What does he think of her? The other you."

Peter had been about to take a bite of his sandwich, but he set it down uneaten. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. It was an uncommon conundrum. Was she just talking about what his alternate thought of her alternate or was she also asking what he thought of her? "He thinks she's annoying."

"Really?"

"No. But she does drive him crazy. She's just so motivated and passionate about her work. She's a hell of a person to live up to. Plus she never lets anyone help her, which he does find annoying. Mostly because that's all he wants to do. She's... what can I say? He thinks she's great. The best person he knows." _He thinks she's home,_ Peter wants to add, but he doesn't have the nerve. "What does she think about him?"

Olivia thought about it and John was right, she wasn't good with emotions, not talking about them anyway. The words just didn't come easily. There were too many forces in her head, some wanting to protect her, others wanting to protect her counterpart, and still others that wanted to hide the truth even from her. "She thinks he's brilliant. And should really get over the chip on this shoulder." Peter pretended to be hurt by her words. "She thinks he's got a good heart. She trusts him, completely. And for her, that's a big thing."

Peter wanted to make a move, even a small one. He glanced over at her hand resting on the table. He was about take it in his, but before he even moved her hand was gone, fishing her cell phone out of her pocket, "Dunham? Hey Charlie, any news?"

"Yeah, just putting together information on your people of interest. I don't know where you got these names, but they are mixed bag of corruption, scientific brilliance, and a complete disregard for human life. None stand out as the killer yet, but any of them seem capable. All except one. According to our records William Bell was in a car accident as a young man. He survived, but just barely. Since then he's been living in a nursing home in Chelsea."

Olivia couldn't explain why, but knew she needed to see him for herself.

"What's the name of the home Charlie?" She jotted it down, along with its address, before looking back up at Peter. "Want to go for a drive?"

Butterfly_


	6. Chapter 6: Suspects

A/N

Sorry for the major delay. Life had kept me quite busy. But I know exactly where this story is going, so it will have an ending, I promise.

I just (found out about and) cracked the glyphs. Thought it would be fun to include them at the ends of the sections. I've used *'s and _'s to represent the lights, *'s are higher up, _'s are lower. If you like codes, enjoy. I'm also planning on putting them throughout the older chapters.

Chapter 6: Suspects

The nursing home wasn't what Peter had been expecting. For some reason he was having visions of the other universe's St. Claire's. Nothing could have been further from it. This place was warm and bright, with big windows and pastel coloured walls. The rooms seemed filled with living plants and artwork. He had expected an institution, but the building seemed to be doing its best to truly be a home to the patients. The front desk had directed them to the head nurse, Ms. Curran, a woman who must be in her 40s or 50s and was nearly 6 feet tall. She was surprised to find the FBI at her workplace and seemed even more surprised when they told her which patient they were looking for. "You would like to see William Bell?" she said for a second time.

"Yes. We are investigating a series of deaths and we believe Mr. Bell maybe connected in some way."

Nurse Curran looked at them as if they had suggested William Bell was involved in alien abductions. "I don't know where you've got your information, but I can assure you that Mr. Bell isn't involved in anything you could be investigating."

"Even still, we'd like to see him."

"Be my guest." Nurse Curran led them into the next room, just as warmly decorated as the first, but much bigger. The head nurse drew their attention to an older man sitting in a wheel chair at a table. His face and hands were deeply lined and his ears seem to come to slight points. He held his hands together on his lap and seemed to stare just in front of them, seeing nothing.

"He was in a car accident when he was 24."

"It left him paralyzed from the waist down." Olivia added, trying to direct the conversation to more useful information.

"Yes, but that's not the worst of it."

"What's the worst?" Peter asked, already guessing at the answer.

"He suffered sever head trauma in the collision. Brain damage, irreparable. I've been told that he was a very smart man in his youth. People thought he would be the next Einstein. He was almost through this PhD when this happened. Now he merely exists. He cannot communicate. Can't even make eye contact. I would be surprised if he even knows that we are here at all. Believe me when I tell you that there is no way this man could be involved."

Daisy*

* * *

><p>Seeing Bell in his current state had satisfied Olivia for the moment, but as she drove Peter back to the lab she, once again, became unconvinced, "I still think he's connected somehow."<p>

"You never give up, do you? Livia, the guy is a vegetable. Face it, the only connection he has to this case is us and the other universe."

"And his injury."

"Yes, but how many hundreds of thousands of people in the world are paraplegic?" He glanced over at her and knew he wasn't going to change her mind. Not today anyway. "Stubborn."

"What's that?"

"Something else the other Peter thinks of the other Olivia. He thinks she's stubborn."

"And I'm sure he thinks that just because he's a genius he's always right."

"Just when he has empirical data to back it up." They were nearly back at the lab. Back to his car. Back to the part of his life that was separate from hers. The part he no longer relished in. "So are you heading to the office after this?"

"No. My shift's been done for over an hour now, and since I have nothing useful to report, I think I'll just call it a night." She stole a glance at him. "Want to get dinner?"

_Butterfly

* * *

><p>As promising as Olivia's leads had seemed at first, over the next three weeks they all but dried up. Three of the four men were out of the country for all of the incidences. The fourth, Claus Penrose, had been working in Texas for the past two years. There was no evidence to suggest he had been in the Boston area in that time, and had been the key note speaker at the University of North Texas the night the paraplegics at Spaulding Hospital were discovered. It drove Olivia crazy to make no headway on a case when so much hung in the balance. She was frustrated and annoyed. So when Walter Bishop told her that he had something very important to discuss with her and Peter, she nearly asked him if he would be happy just having Peter and her go out to lunch and save them a trip to Harvard. But she felt bad taking her feelings out on Walter, so she held her tongue.<p>

Before Peter and Olivia had made it into the office, Walter was already boasting about his news. "I believe I have found you more victims, Agent Dunham."

"How?"

"I sent out a request for information to all of my colleagues and any medical professionals that they know. I was looking for any incidence that matched the description of our case."

"You mean spinal code injuries and rapid mitosis?"

"Yes Son, but more (or I suppose, less) specifically, I was looking for miracles. Particularly those involving the regeneration of cells." Walter began to laugh, "To be honest, I was hoping we would find some sort of salamander man that was able to regrow a limb."

Olivia shot Peter a look. "What did you find?" he asked, trying to get his father back on track.

"Oh. The most marvelous thing. I found six men, all of whom have suffered severe brain damage from head trauma, and all of whom are now completely repaired. Good as new. My colleague is sending over more samples along with their files, but I am confident that it is the same virus."

"That's great Walter. Are they sending over the bodies as well?"

"What bodies?" Walter said, looking genuinely puzzled.

"The six men, Dad. The ones who were exposed to the virus."

Walter looked between the two of them in confusion. "There aren't any bodies. These men are still alive. Didn't I mention that?"

Peter laughed, "No, you left that part out." Suddenly, Peter became aware of the implication of his father's words, "So did it work? The virus I mean, did it cure these men?"

"I suppose so. Yes. But it's still going to kill them." Now it was Peter and Olivia's turn to look confused. "It's still unstable you see. It's getting better, this time the virus appears to be remaining in the affected region, but after a time, the rapid cell grow begins again. It's much as I anticipated with the first victim. That kind of grow in the brain has form a whole nest of tumors. The men will be dead in a matter of weeks."

A strange look passed over Olivia's face. Peter felt as though he could almost watch her mind racing through the facts and forming her own conclusions. "Okay Walter, I need you to look over these new samples as soon as possible. Confirm that it is our virus and see if there's anything else you can learn from this latest version. Peter, can you help him with the work?"

Olivia already had her coat on and was moving towards the door, "Of course. But where are you going?"

"To check on a hunch."

Seahorse_

* * *

><p>The nursing home's receptionist was surprised to see Olivia back so soon. He informed her that Nurse Curran was currently occupied and directed her to wait. Waiting was something that Olivia had ever been good at and after a few minutes of pacing the lobby she ducked into the adjacent room. Because of the rain, the common room didn't look nearly as bright as it had a few weeks ago. Olivia scan the tables and noticed William Bell positioned in the same place she had seen him last time. Without thinking, she walked over to his table and took the seat next to him. He made no reaction to her presence. His lowered gaze did not change, even though her knees were now in view. If he was aware of her at all, there was no way for Olivia to know. "Mr. Bell?" No responses, but then what had she been expecting? "Mr. Bell, my name is Olivia Dunham, I'm an agent with the FBI. I'm investigating strange circumstances that I believe involve you in some way." Again she paused, searching this old man for some sign of life. "Mr. Bell, I don't know why, but I believe someone is trying to cure you." Olivia watched for even the smallest thing. A slight movement of his hands, the dilation of his pupils, but there was nothing. This man was empty. Olivia looked around her, insured there was no one in earshot, and then leaned in, "Mr. Bell, there is more than one world. More than one universe. And in these other universes there are alternate versions of ourselves. Alternate events. Mr. Bell, in another universe you were never in an accident, you finished school and became a great man, a visionary, responsible for revolutionary work. Mr. Bell, in another world you are whole."<p>

"Welcome back, Agent Dunham."

Olivia looked up to see Nurse Curran towering over her. She pulled away from Bell and followed the Nurse out of the room. "I know that there is no way Mr. Bell is responsible for what I am investigating, but we have uncovered more evidence that leads me to believe that he is connected in some way. Now I know he has no relatives, but has anyone from Harvard or any of his former colleagues come to visit?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"How about any friends? Anybody really."

"Nobody, beyond Mr. Broid."

Olivia perked up at this, "I'm sorry, who?"

"Mr. Broid. Steve Jordan Broid, he's Mr. Bell's cousin from the UK."

Olivia's surprise was palpable; she hadn't been able to find any acquaintance of Bell's.

"I wasn't aware that he had a living cousin."

The woman laughed a little, "There not really cousins. Old family friends as I understand it."

"And Mr. Broid visits often."

"When ever he's in the country. He's very British, in a arrogant, yet somehow charming way. He was actually in visiting just last Wednesday."

Olivia light up, "Really? I noticed cameras in the lobby, could I take a look at the footage?"

_Apple

* * *

><p>The nursing home's security guard looked a little intimidated to have an FBI agent in his midst, "It's not going to be top of the line quality or anything. We mostly use the cameras to make sure none of patients leaves unattended."<p>

Olivia assured him it would be fine, and had him scan ahead to 11:18 am, the time Steve Jordan Broid had signed in at the front desk, according to their logs. Sure enough, the footage shows a man of medium build walking up to the front desk at 11:17:30. He seems to make small talk with the receptionists and signs in as though he has done it hundred times, all while keeping his back to the camera. Olivia was beginning to grow concerned that she wouldn't get a good look at him, but at the last minute he glanced behind him and Olivia's heart spotted in her chest. She knew that man. She had seen him before, a couple of nights ago in her dreams. The man on the screen, Bell's only visitor, was David Robert Jones.

_Hand


	7. Chapter 7: The One In Which

A/N: Sorry it's been so long between updates. Thanks for the reviews. Just one more chapter to go after this.

Chapter 7 - The One In Which They Meet Mr. Jones

"David Robert Jones?" Olivia could hear Charlie typing it in as he said it. "So what are we looking for exactly?"

"Any connect between Jones and our case. Or a connection to William Bell." As soon as Olivia had seen Jones' face on the screen she had flown out of the nursing home and was currently on route back to the federal building.

There was a pause as Charlie filtered through the information. "Well he was a student at Harvard. Don't know if he ever knew Bell, but their time there overlap by a year, so it's possible. After that it's the usual collection of academia and lab work. And then he goes off the grid for a while. That's weird, he's currently leasing a commercial property here in Boston."

"Where?"

"Oh you're going to love this Liv, it's a warehouse, one guess where."

"The first crime scene?"

"The very same. It would have been Jones' garbage that the victim was found near."

Olivia made a sharp U-turn, "Okay Charlie, I'm going to need you to meet me there with a team. Send some uniforms out before us, but tell them not to engage, just to keep watch and make sure that Jones doesn't leave".

Even before she turned down the street Olivia knew something was wrong; something felt off. She turned south and saw the sky filling with plumes of black smoke. In moments her suspicions were confirmed. Flames licked what remained of the warehouse's windows and the roof was partially collapsed. Olivia ran her fingers through her hair in frustration as she watched her first real break in the case go up in smoke.

_leaf

* * *

><p>"So was anything at the scene salvageable?" Peter asked as he handed Olivia a coffee.<p>

"I don't know. We're still waiting for the go ahead from the fire department before we can get investigators onto the scene. But it doesn't look good. Whatever the fire didn't destroy the attempts to put out the flames most probably did."

"Ah, fire and water. It's always that way. Life and death, renewal and destruction, forever linked".

Olivia looked up at Walter, but was too exhausted to even respond. Fortunately, she was spared a reply by the ringing of her phone, "Maybe this is them. Dunham?"

"Agent Dunham? This is Emily Curran. I thought you should know, that man, Mr. Broid or whatever his name really is, well he's here and he's acting very strange. We're afraid."

"Okay, Emily, I'm on my way there, in the mean time, phone the police and keep your distance from him. If you could evacuate the building or seal off the rooms without putting yourself in danger it's not a bad idea". Olivia hung out the phone and throw her coat over her shoulders in one motion, "Jones's with Bell. I'm headed there". Peter grabbed his coat and followed her towards the door, "No, Peter. Stay here".

"That's just not going to happen."

_apple

* * *

><p>The police were already on the scene by the time Peter and Olivia arrived. They had cordoned off the area and had most of the staff and the patients secured in a separate part of the building. They haven't been as successful with Jones. He had sealed himself in a small room with Bell and threatened to kill him if anyone stepped foot in the room. "Is he armed?" Olivia asked the lead officer.<p>

"I'm not sure. We couldn't tell if he had a weapon or not, but he was carrying a syringe filled with red liquid. He had it pointed at the vegetable's throat."

"So what are you thinking?" Peter asked as soon as the officer was out of earshot.

"I'm thinking I'm going in that room."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

As a civilian, it should have seemed ridiculous to Peter to be strapping on a bulletproof vest and following Olivia directly into danger, but Peter didn't even question it. Whether it was echoes of his dreams or just a strong desire to be at her side, somehow he knew that he was exactly where he was suppose to be. The SWAT team was already lining the halls as they approached the room. They looked at Olivia skeptically, but parted for her and Peter. There they stood, in front of the door, as if waiting for an invisible sign to tell them to begin. "I guess we should knock," Olivia said, throwing Peter a sideways glance. She did just that and waited.

"I've already told the last person that if anyone attempts to enter this room I will kill this man. Did you expect I would tell you something else?" Came a cocky voice from behind the door.

"I think you will. I think that anyone that has gone to the kind of trouble you have gone through to try to save this man wouldn't be in a rush to kill him."

There was a long pause. Peter held his breath.

"You are different, aren't you? Well, Miss... Forgive me. What is your name?"

"I'm Agent Olivia Dunham with the FBI."

"Well Miss. Dunham, you seem to be more informed than your predecessors. How is that, exactly?"

"Before I can answer that, you're going to have to let me come inside."

What followed was a long moment of thoughtful silence. "Very well. But I will speak only to you." Olivia turned away from the door for the first time and looked back at Peter. The look said, 'stay here'. The look she got in response said, 'not a chance'. She shrugged and opened the door.

Jones looked rather surprised to find two people in his company. Instinctively Peter put up his hands. "Hey, I know you said just her but I'm not armed, I'm just-"

"You're not FBI, are you?"

Peter almost laughed, "No, I'm not", and then when Jones raised an eyebrow he added, "I'm just here with her."

Jones smiled at that. It was a sinister smile, the kind you might imagine on a cartoon snake as it speaks to a mouse. He turned back to face Olivia, but still directed his comment to Peter, "I imagine she has that affect on a lot of people. Well, Miss. Olivia Dunham, you were going to tell me what it is you think you know about me and my work".

Olivia took a step closer to him, her hands at her side, ready for the situation to change. "I know that you have been working on a cure for Bell. That you've been testing it on innocent civilian. I've seen the trail of bodies you've left in your wake."

"Ah yes, progress isn't without its price."

"16 dead is a hell of a price."

"If it was someone you loved, someone who you cared about, you wouldn't think so. Besides, need I remind you that he's not dead yet? And with this he may just come alive again".

Peter couldn't help himself, "So is it finished then? Is that the cure?"

Jones considered him, "It may be". He turned back to Olivia, a strange and familiar look dancing across his features. Peter had seen that look on his father's face countless times; when he was examining a new specimen or poring over a report. It was the look of a clever mind trying to work something out. "You're the one that sent the police to my lab". Olivia said nothing, but the look of contempt she gave him said it all. "Well then, young lady, if this man dies today it will be your doing".

"I thought you said it would cure him," Peter interjected again.

"I said it might. It is the closest I have ever come, but I was unable to test it. I suppose there's one way to find out". Jones raised the needle towards Bell's neck. In the same moment Olivia had her gun aimed at his head.

"Don't do it. Put it down, Jones". The needle remained firmly in place, but it had yet to pierce the skin. "You have done so much to cure him, how can you risk his life now?"

Much to their surprise Jones started laughing. The needle held its place, but his eye found Olivia's, "Life? You call this life? Look at him, Miss. Dunham". The truth was, if Bell's life wasn't hanging in the balance, it would be hard to remember he was even in the room. He sat just in front of Jones, his hands cross in the usual way, his eyes staring out just beyond them, only ever moving when Jones moved him. He was as pliable as any puppet, and Jones was looking to cut the strings. Jones had been looking at him, at his state, with disgust, but soon a different look spread across his face. It was a look of caring and admiration. "He was meant to do great things. We were meant to do great things together".

"But that's not what happened," Olivia said, never taking her finger off the trigger.

"Silly girl, isn't that the highest pursuit of science? Concurring fate and bending the world to our whim?"

Two thing happened next in such quick succession that Peter didn't have time to process them until they were over. Jones plunged the syringe into Bell's neck and Olivia shot him right through the shoulder.

seahorse_

* * *

><p>The initial moments of chaos, in which the room filled with the SWAT team, an unconscious Jones was hand cuffed, and both men were rushed to the hospital, were soon followed by the necessary bureaucracy of statements, phones calls, and notes taken for future paper work. While Olivia finished up with the lead officer on duty Peter put a quick call into Harvard to tell Walter what had happened. Peter could already sense Olivia standing behind him as he hung up the phone.<p>

"Was that Walter?"

"Yeah. He's going to head over to the hospital to lend a hand. He seemed rather pleased about it to tell you the truth."

"That's good. Besides Jones, Walter's the closest thing we have to an expert on this virus."

"Do we know anymore?"

"Not really. The cops have found his car, but there was nothing in there. They're making their way to his apartment now, but I suspect it will be the same. I think he destroyed the rest of his supplies in the fire."

Peter felt crestfallen, "So could he walk?"

"Fortunately, he brought just enough stuff and made just enough of a scene to hang himself."

"So we saved the day." Peter said in disbelief.

"I think we did." She smiled at him and let out a breath. It felt like the first time all night she had a moment to release all the tension that had been building up for the past hour.

Peter felt it too, "Do you want to get a drink. Or five?"

Olivia laughed, "Actually, Jones should be out of surgery in the next little while and I wanted to be the first person to talk to him".

Of course she did, Peter thought. "Hey I'm just happy I didn't die today". He was about to add that with only one syringe his odds of survival were actually pretty good, but he noticed Olivia was looking away. She seemed lost to her own thoughts. "What's wrong?"

She looked back at him and made a bit of a face as she tried to distill her thoughts into words, "I was thinking about what Jones said about Bell and about 'concurring fate'. Thinking about how he would do anything to make the world into what _he_ thought it should be".

"Well he is a sociopath."

"Yeah, but what's our excuse?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "We were warned and we have it on good authority that those Observers actually do exist out of time, and yet that didn't stop us. Stop us from making the world what we wanted it to be". She was looking at him now with an unreadable expression, but Peter knew he couldn't wait any longer. He had to say something. His head flooded with all the things he'd wanted to say, wanted to ask, and so what ended up coming out of his mouth was some sort of horrible mix-up of all of it.

"What do you think of me?" It really didn't make any sense in the context and he didn't blame her for having such a confused look on her face. He tried to save himself. Mostly, he was trying not to ramble. "I mean we always talk about what they, the other us's, think of each other, but what do you think of me? Because I can't stop thinking about you. I have never met anyone like you. I think you're amazing". He ran out of steam before he ran out of things he wanted to say, but now that silence hung between them, he somehow knew that it would have to be her who broke it. At least if something were to come out of it. She looked at him, she looked away, she looked back. She didn't say anything thing. He took a step back, deflated. She seemed about to follow, but the lead officer had just entered the room. He had something for her to see. She was asking for a minute, but Peter saw his moment and he took it. "I'm sorry Olivia, I shouldn't have said that," she looked frantic, but whether that was because of what he said or because he was leaving, he couldn't tell. "You finish up here, I'll just take a cab home". And with that he was gone. She never managed to say anything.

frog_

* * *

><p>Peter couldn't sleep. He sat at his kitchen table feeling like a fool. What right did he have to ask her that, to put her on the spot? She didn't owe him anything. Really he had been lucky to be in her life as much as he had. Luck that he couldn't help but feel was about to run out. They'd done the impossible. They'd caught the bad guy, and it haven't occurred to Peter until that very moment, but with the case behind them there wasn't a reason too see each other as frequently. This wasn't the other universe; he wasn't a 'civilian consultant', not in any official way, and how often would she be tasked cases involving virology? And so, although it was nearly two in the morning, he sat in his kitchen and wondered if she would disappear from his life as quickly as she had entered it. His pessimism was interrupted by a knock. With great effort he walked down the hall and opened the door. Olivia was standing there. For a long moment neither of them knew what to say. "I thought you might be Walter."<p>

"At this hour?"

"Sometimes when he can't sleep he comes over here to make waffles. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. This may be presumptuous, but I thought..." she pull a bottle of whiskey out of her coat pocket, "Thought I'd take you up on that drink after all."

Peter smiled and led the way inside, "I'll get us some glasses. Were you able to interview Jones?"

"For about five minute when he got out of surgery. He seemed rather pleased with himself. He admitted to it all. Except Mark Fletcher, our first victim. He seemed genuinely surprised about that one. He accused us of trying to 'pin any unsolved case in the city on him'. Doesn't matter. It's open and shut."

"Then I guess his little virus can't result in the end of the world." Peter said as he poured the drinks.

"Guess not." She was smiling at him, working up her courage.

Peter handed her a glass, "To disaster narrowly averted."

She took a sip and then set the glass back on the counter. "Peter, about what you said before-"

"No, Olivia. Don't worry about that. I... I was out of line-"

"Peter." Her tone demanded his attention and her eyes sought his until he was quiet and looking right at her. "I've been pretty bad at this for a long time. I think that's one thing that transcends universes. But I've been thinking about what you said, what you asked, and I can't stop thinking about you either. I think you know me better than anyone else in the world, which is crazy, because I've only known you for three months. But when I go to bed at night I'm looking forward to hearing your voice in the morning. And I have these dreams and I just think she is so blind to not see what's right in front of her, what's staring her in the face. And all I can think is that if she could see into this universe she'd think I was crazy to put the fate of the whole world in jeopardy just to be friends with you". Olivia's eyes had wondered away from him as she spoke, but now she looked back into his, trying to catch his reaction.

He simply smiled, "What do you think we should do about this?"

She smiled back and then shook her head slightly, as if to dislodge her self-doubt once and for all. She stood up on her toes and kissed him. It was a light kiss, at least at first, but soon his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her further into his embrace. After a moment she pulled away. He watched her carefully, a questioning look on his face. She reached out and took his hand in hers, and then wordlessly led him down the hall and up the stairs.

Peter was surprised his body even moved. He felt as though he was only aware of the three inches of skin on his hand that was in contact with hers. But obediently his legs followed her lead and finally stop just inside his bedroom door. She had released his hand and now they stood facing each other, an arms length away. He should want to grab her, kiss her, run his fingers up her spine, but there was a stillness to the moment that came over him instead. Perhaps it was just a calm before the storm, but he enjoyed the mediation of it. A moment to shift roles, to become something else. He took a step towards her. She followed suit. He reached out to her. He could feel the soft skin of her neck and her smooth coils of hair. But then she was pulling away; reacting to a sound it took Peter a moment to recognize: her cell phone. "One day I'm going to take that away from you and sell it as scrap metal".

She looked apologetic, "It's Charlie, I'll get rid of him, and then I promise to put it on silent." Peter couldn't help but notice the way she moved away from him as she answered, as though the intimate setting couldn't also encapsulate the world of work, "Charlie, it's 2 am on my day off. We've caught the bad guy and saved the world, can't I just have tonight to myself?"

"I'm sorry Livy, but I need you to come back in. We've found two more bodies, and we think there's more on the way."

_face


	8. Chapter 8: Dire Consequences

A/N: It is amazing how long this takes me. There's just one more chapter. It's done, I'm just editing. Should be up soon. If you're still with me, we're almost at the end.

Chapter 8 – Dire Consequences

If John Scott and Charlie Francis were surprised to find Olivia and Peter arriving together at 2:30 in the morning, they didn't let it show. In truth, they were relieved to have Peter there, considering his father was probably their best hope at this point.

"What have we got?" Olivia asked as she picked up one of the files in front of John.

"Well we've just confirmed the reports of a third body. That makes three in under four hours. The lab guys are working on it now, but we're pretty sure it's Jones. At least I'm hoping there's not too many other faceless viruses loose in Boston."

"Faceless?" Peter echoed, "You mean that these people have been infected with an earlier form of the virus?"

"Looks that way."

"Okay, so where were our victims found? Hospitals, rehab clinics?"

"That's the weird part, Liv. The three victims are just regular people. They don't fit the MO at all. And their ages, races, careers, all different. Livy, if there's no pattern-"

"Then this thing could be spreading randomly. What does Jones have to say?"

Peter's phone rang just before John could answer. With an apologetic look he left the room. "He's still heavily sedated. I'm heading over there now to charm the nursing staff into reviving him."

"If it is Jones, what's his game? I thought the whole point behind this was to cure Bell, what would he want with these people?"

"I don't know, but if it's not him... three victims in four hours, think of how fast it could spread."

"That's not so bad," John said as he grabbed his coat, "It would still take 70 years to kill everyone in Boston."

"Ever the optimist."

Just as John left the room Peter returned. "That was my father. He's leaving the hospital now and would like the bodies and samples sent to his lab at Harvard. He wants us to meet him there too."

Instinctively Olivia reached for her coat, but then glanced back at Charlie with a guilty look on her face, suddenly unsure where her responsibilities and loyalties lay. Charlie had no such qualms, "Go with them, Liv. Dr. Bishop will probably make more progress than us anyway, and it will be good to have someone on the inside. Stay in touch."

"My father also said he has a surprise for us."

"It wouldn't happen to be the cure, would it?" Charlie asked as they headed towards the door.

"Knowing my father it could be anything from the cure to a new flavour of pudding he's just invented, but we'll keep you posted," and with that, they were gone.

_hand

* * *

><p>Peter and Olivia were surprised to find Walter's lab empty when they arrived. They were about to check his office, when the door to it opened, revealing the mad scientist, himself. "Oh good, you're here. I have something simply wonderful to show you. Peter, Olivia, I'd like you to meet William Bell," Walter stepped aside and there Bell was, standing in the doorway<p>

Peter and Olivia were speechless. They barely recognized him, even though they had seen him only hours before. There were the same long hands, the same lined face, but there was something in his eyes, a light that they'd never seen before, that made him so wholly different.

"It's good to see you again, Agent Dunham."

"You remember me?"

"Of course. It's not every day a beautiful woman sits with you and tells you a wondrous fairy tale. A tale that seems to have come true, I might add."

"So it worked?!" Peter asked for the second time that evening, "The virus, it cured you?"

"Oh yes. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean it won't also kill me."

To answer their questioning looks, Walter added, "It appears our friend, Mr. Jones, never did fully perfect his virus. And while it has succeeded in giving Belly back his-"

"Belly?"

Bell laughed, "Just something Walter's taken to calling me. I rather like it. I haven't had a nick name in decades."

"That's great and all, but can we go back to the part where you're dying?"

"Of course, Peter. You see virus is still in a state of flux. The doctors predict it will take two to three months for a nest of tumors to liquefy my brain, and I thought that in the mean time I could lend you my assistance. After all, this damage was done so that I might get my faculties back, it seems only fitting that I should use those gifts to try to fix matters, as best as I can."

"Well we'll welcome the help."

butterfly_

* * *

><p>Even with Walter and Bell, who in a short time had grown quite fond of each other, on the case, progress was slow. They were able to confirm that all of the victims had contracted the first strain of the virus, making Mark Fletcher presumably the outbreak's patient zero, but they were still uncertain as to how the virus was being spread or what was to be done to stop it. 24 hours in, 22 bodies and counting, and Olivia found herself wandering the empty halls of Harvard, uncertain what to do next. When she finally returned to Walter's office she found only Peter, staring intently at a map on the bulletin board.<p>

"Hey. I figured if I mapped out all of the cases we could maybe find a pattern in the locations."

"What if it's too late?" There was a heaviness in her voice that he'd never heard before. He looked up from his work and noticed she was bracing her body against the doorway. "I failed. You know what the observer said. I was suppose to be the one who could stop this, and I don't know what to do."

"Olivia," he was walking towards her slowly, as if afraid of scaring her off, "You..." he paused, tried again. "I've never met anyone as dedicated as you. We are going to find the answer". He cupped her face in his hands, how perfectly it fit there. His eyes staring into hers, and then glancing downwards, taking in her lips. Suddenly the thought that he had been kissing those lips only a day ago seemed ludicrous. It felt like a different life. But now, he found himself back under their spell. The world and all it problems seemed to disappeared.

"Peter I'm scare. Scared that this is my fault, that I could have stopped all this. That Frank..." she trailed off, lost in the inertia, in the way their bodies instinctively bent towards each other. But before his lips met hers she pulled away. "Frank." Without another word she marched into the lab with Peter trailing behind her. "Could this virus have any connection to the Ebola virus?"

Both Walter and Bell looked surprised, "What would make you say that?"

"Frank. He's one of the world's leading experts on the Ebola virus. And the Observer made a big deal about him, about his being here, so I thought, if he was meant to solve this problem, maybe that's why."

"It's worth a look," Walter said, staring back down into the microscope. "In fact it's highly likely. That would explain why I have been craving rice crispy squares ever since I began working on this case."

"Come again, Dad."

"Oh well, it was in first year virology, while we were learning about Ebola, that I had my first rice crispy square."

"Grandma made those all the time, that can't be remotely true."

"Oh, it was a magic rice crispy square. Didn't I mention that?"

"Walter, are we correct? Does the virus bare any resemblance to Ebola?"

"Yes, but no."

"Oh boy."

"What I mean to say is that I believe Jones used a very stripped down strain of the Ebola as platform for his own virus."

"Does that help us, Walter? Does it tell us anything about the virus? How it spreads?"

"Well, Ebola spreads through touch and bodily fluids. It's possible Jones' virus works in the same way."

"But," Bell interjected, "if it spread like the Ebola virus we would see far more cases, particularly in people who worked on the crime scenes. You three would very likely be infected by now."

"Yes. Belly is quite right. It is almost as though it has a personality disorder. It behaves like Ebola and then in an instant acts like something else."

I disquiet fell over the lab. Peter voiced what they were all thinking, "So we're back to where we started."

"He always said viruses were fickle."

"What was that, dear?"

Olivia looked at Walter in surprise, unaware that anyone heard what she muttered under her breath. "Frank, he used to say that viruses were fickle. That they had personality. That they were always changing and adapting. That you'll never know what they'll do next."

Walter's eyes lit up, "Yes. Yes exactly. I think I would have liked this Frank fellow quite a bit. Although, of course, for your sake son, I'm glad he's not here anymore. Unless it's true and we do need him to save the world..."

"Dad, focus. You sounded like you made a connection."

"Right. Our virus. What it spreads the way that Ebola would, but once it has infected the host it changes, takes on the characteristics that Jones wants. You said he was quite found of Belly, yes? He wouldn't want the virus to continue to spread, it would put himself in harms way."

"Okay, so it enters a host and then changes. Is that even possible?"

"In theory, yes. And it could explain why Jones was never fully able to stabilize it. If it had to change and adapt at one stage it would be very hard to prevent it from devolving later."

"That's true, Walter" Bell added, "but that still doesn't explain how it is being spread now."

"What if there's a carrier?" Olivia asked, as her mind ran through all the details of the case again.

"You think that a person is doing this?" Peter said, trying to keep up.

"Something always bothered me about that first crime scene. We assumed that he was infected by a contaminated syringe from Jones' trash."

"A good assumption, my dear, if in fact this virus spreads like Ebola."

"Right, but we never found the syringe. We thought maybe it had been removed by the prep, covering up his tracks. But I think Jones might be telling the truth. I think he had no intention of killing Fletcher. I don't think he ever knew about him. Which means..."

"Which means someone else had to have been there with Mark Fletcher. Someone that took the syringe with him." Peter said, continuing her thought instinctively. "That makes sense. The pattern of victims, it's pretty random, but it almost resembles a person moving through the city."

"Alight. This is a promising hypothesis," Bell said in his level tone, "But why has it taken three months for this strain of the virus to get out. And also, how is it that this person has not died themselves? From our best estimations the virus kills 2 to 5 hours after a person has been exposed."

Olivia had been wondering the same thing. There must be something special about this individual. Something about them that allowed them to survived when everyone else has perished. "What if the person we are trying to find is immune to Ebola. There are those with natural immunity."

"Quite right. However I would suspect that anyone naturally immune to Ebola would not become infected with the virus."

"Belly's right. No, what we need is someone who is a carrier."

"Okay. What if the person has come in contact with Ebola in the past and survived."

"That's very rare."

"But not impossible."

"I think Agent Dunham is on to something. If a survivor was exposed to Jones' virus it is possible that his body would try to fight the virus, and this interaction maybe keep it from evolving the way that Jones had intended. It is possible the virus is being suspended in a sort of stasis, where it still behave like the Ebola virus, and can thus be spread like it. The kind of numbers we've seen would suggest a virus spread by touch."

"But we still don't know why it's taken three months to see any cases."

"Where's your optimism son? I think we may have just cracked the case."

"Maybe, but at the moment it's really just our best guess, and, frankly, wild conjecture."

"Well it's the best we've got." There was a take-charge look on Olivia's face as she continued, "Okay, Walter, I need the two of you to see if this information helps you at all with the virus."

"If we can determine which strand of Ebola Jones used as his base, it's possible we can start developing an antidote to it, at least one that would work in the beginning stages."

"That's probably the best news I've heard all day. I'm going to get Charlie to look into possible Ebola survivors. Keep in touch."

frog_

* * *

><p>Although Peter and Olivia were on their way back to the federal building, they already had Charlie on speakerphone, sifting through the results for them, "So I'm looking for someone who's survived the Ebola virus? Can't be too many people like that in the United States."<p>

"That's what we're hoping. Try to limit the search to addicts, preferably ones who are local."

"Okay, I've got something here. Henry Arliss Higgins, survived an Ebola outbreak when he was 8. His rap sheet is littered with minor drug convictions. Even worked as a snitch out in Baltimore to get out of a few. The most recent charge is here in Boston, but there's no address. Not even a list of the shelters or clinics he's been at."

"Thanks Charlie. That sounds promising. Let me know if you find anyone else that meets the bill."

"You're not coming in?"

"No, I'm going to check on something first."

In a moment Olivia hung up and was making a U-turn.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked from the passenger seat.

"Charlestown."

"Why?"

"That's weird the shelter Fletcher lived leading up to his death is."

"And you're thinking that if these men were shooting up together they must have known each other, and maybe somebody at the shelter will know Higgins."

"That's the hope."

_apple

* * *

><p>"I don't understand. I already told the cops everything I could about Mark Fletcher months ago." The head volunteer of the shelter said.<p>

"Actually, we were wondering if you had ever seen this man, Henry Arliss Higgins," Olivia asked, showing a picture Charlie had forwarded to her.

"Of course. That's Bubbles. He lived here for about two months."

Peter shot Olivia a look, "And did he know Mr. Fletcher?"

"Yeah, Bubs and Fletch were inseparable."

Olivia's brain flooded with more relief than she was ready to acknowledge at the moment. "Does Bubbles still live here? Do you know where we could find him?"

"No. I haven't seen him since Fletch died. To be honest, I thought that maybe we lost him too." Peter could hear genuine sorrow in her voice as she continued. "Police don't look too hard for people like Bubbles. I thought maybe he'd died too and no one bothered to come asking."

leaf*

* * *

><p>Peter had long since lost count of the number of hours they had been awake, but at the moment he didn't care. There was a lightness in his step and a seemly limitless energy he felt as they left the shelter. "You were right! We've got a face, we've got a name, Charlie is going to find this guys, and we are actually going to stop this." Olivia merely returned his smile, but he knew she was feeling it to, the relief and excitement that comes with progress. Just as they reached the car Peter's phone rang. "Hey Dad. Good news. Livia was right, we know who our carrier is and we've got the Feds tracking him down right now."<p>

"Excellent son. We've made progress as well. We have identified the Ebola strain and are working to synthesize an antidote."

"Looks like we might just save the world after all."

"Well that remains to be seen."

"What do you mean?"

"The virus Jones used, Ebola Reston, a strain only previously observed in monkeys, is the only known strain of the Ebola virus that has become airborne."

"Airborne?" Peter repeated in disbelief. Olivia, who had not heard Walter's side of the conversation, now looked up at Peter in horror, the joy and relief of moments before, popping like a bubble under the weight of those two syllables. "How much time do we have before that happens?"

"I have no idea, Son. Hopefully enough time."

apple*


	9. Chapter 9: The Smaller Things

A/N: Well I'm finally done. If you're still with me, kudos to you. Let me know what you thought of it, reviews are always appreciated.

I always liked the way that Andre Royo's character Bubbles in the Wire could work as Henry's back story, so I thought I'd just combine them. Here's how it ends….

Chapter 9 - The Smaller Things

Peter and Olivia returned to the lab to see if there was any way for them to help.

"Walter, how do we know that the virus hasn't gone airborne already."

"If it had we would be seeing far more cases by now."

"But Dad, even if it becomes airborne, we're still only talking about one carrier. The virus will be limited to the people he is around. There's no way for it to spread at the kind of rates we're afraid of."

"No, not yet. But as Agent Dunham's friend likes to say, viruses are fickle. They will change and adapted even when they aren't programed to. Given enough time I think it is quite possible that they virus will find a way to spread beyond the limits of its one carrier."

"But Walter," Bell interjected, "There is hope."

"There is? Oh yes, right, there is. We have developed a weak antidote."

"If should be able to cure anyone within 3 hours of infection."

"And since most victim are dead within 4 hours of exposure, it's a reasonable time frame."

"Will it cure Higgins?"

"The fellow they call Bubbles? No, but we are working on that now. You just need to find him."

As if on cue, Olivia's phone rang, "Dunham."

"Hey Liv, It's me. There's been a sighting of your suspect right in Cambridge. We're asking that the area be cleared and we're looking for a way to take him in without exposing anyone."

"Where is he?"

Three sets of eyes watched Olivia shot down an address, anxiously waiting for the news. "Thanks Charlie. I'll take care of it." She hung up the phone and pocketed the address, "Higgins is twelve blocks away. Uniforms are keeping the public at bay, but I'm going to go speak with him. See if I can get him to surrender to the CDC and a quarantine group that have been dispatched."

"Why you?" Peter could feel his stomach tying in knots. "What's to stop you from being infected?"

"Peter is right, dear. You would be putting yourself at great risk. I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'll be careful. And if anything happens, well we can always use the antidote."

"It's untested. And who knows if the virus has already begun to change. Livia, please don't do this."

"What other choice do we have?"

"A rather obvious one," Bell said in a matter-of-fact way. "I should go."

"You?"

"I have already been exposed to the virus, it is logical to conclude that it will not affect me."

"But Belly, that was completely different version, we don't know if you are immune to this one."

"Don't worry, Walter. I'm dying anyway. It will only cost me a few months. Besides, this is all happening because of me. I should be the one to stop it.

apple_

Henry Higgins stood in the middle of an intersection looking frightened as he noticed the road blocks in every direction. Peter and Olivia were perched on the roof of a near by office block. A safe distance if the virus was spread by touch, but if it was airborne, well they wouldn't be the only ones in trouble. They watched Bell approach Higgins from the north. A wire allowed them to hear all that was said.

"Henry, is it?" Henry's look of surprise at being addressed by name was conformation enough for Bell, so he continued, "I've come to speak to you."

"To me? Why? What's all this about? Where is everyone? Why am I trapped here?"

"We believe you have been exposed to a virus. That you are a carrier and are unintentionally affecting those around you."

"Affecting?" he echoed with horror.

"Yes, there have been 46 cases so far. All dead. Their faces and all orifices covered with skin."

A look of terrified recognition passed over Henry's features. "That... that's what happened to Fletch. One minute, we're on top of the world, the next he's freaking out, it's like he's choking, but there's just all this skin and I didn't know what to do. It was like, when I was a kid, back home. Watching everyone get sick around me. Felt just like that, I sat there in that alley, just waiting my turn, you know, waiting to die to, cause that's what happens. But then nothing happened."

"We believe it was your body's resistance to Ebola that saved you."

Henry laughed bitterly, "I thought it was God. See, getting sick, but surviving. Seeing what I saw back then, it really messed me up. I was in a bad way, couldn't pull myself out, you know. But then I see that happen to Fletch, and I figure I'm next, but I survive. I survive again, and I just thought... I thought maybe it was God giving me another chance. Thought maybe I could be somebody else. You know, someone better. Sometimes you've got to believe in what you can't see. So I went away from everyone, shut myself up, until I didn't want that shit anymore. Until I felt like I got my life together. I knew I had to wait until I was strong enough not to need it. I only came back to the world a few days ago. But now... 46 people... I did that to them?"

"No. Just like them something was done to you. You're not responsible for that."

"Oh God. Jasmine. I just saw Jasmine this afternoon. Wanted to show her I'd got clean. She's the only one who ever believed in me, and I wanted to show her I'd got out. Do you think I infected her to? If I hurt her..." Henry looked about ready to break.

"We can help her. If she has been exposed, but it's been less than 3 hours we have a cure. We can help you too."

"How am I supposed to live with this?"

"Henry I know you feel responsible. I feel that way too. All this, this virus, it was made for me. To cure me. I feel like I all of these deaths are on my head. But we didn't do this and the best way to fight that feeling, to fight that guilt and helplessness, is to stop this thing, right here, right now. To show those actually responsible that we are not their pawns or their play things. That we are not merely instruments of fate. We can change it, Henry. We can stop this."

"If I come with you, you'll save Jasmine?"

"I give you my word."

leaf*

After the day (well days) that they'd had, Peter was barely able to stay conscious as he and Olivia sat in the hospital, waiting for Walter and Bell to emerge from the quarantined areas. When they finally did arrive, Peter was barely aware that his body had stood up and was walking towards them, closely followed by Olivia.

"Walter, please tell me you have good news."

"Yes. Wonderful news in fact. We were able to save the young woman-"

"Jasmine." Bell clarified.

"We have Henry heavily quarantined, but Belly and I are working in conjunction with the doctors here and we are hopeful that he will make a full recovery. Have there been any cases since Belly brought him in?"

"None." Olivia confirmed, "I think it really is over."

"Wonderful, I knew we could do it. Now if you don't mind, we should return to our patient. The nurses just brought us some vanilla pudding and I'd like to get back before one of the doctors eats it." Walter was nearly out of the room before he turned back to Peter, "I'm sorry, Son. I forgot you don't have your car here. I won't be able to give you a ride home."

"Don't worry Walter, I can drive Peter."

"Excellent. My pudding awaits. Have a lovely evening you two."

face*

It was past three in the morning by the time they left and there was hardly another car on the road. As they drove in relative silence Olivia let out a large yawn. Unable to help himself, Peter did the same. They both laughed. "Long day, huh?" Olivia said with a crocked smile.

"Well we've been up for over 72 hours straight. By this point I think we can start calling it a long week."

"But you know, as exhausted as I am, I feel awake. I don't think I could sleep even if I tried."

"I know what you mean. Averting disaster must be a pretty good energy boast."

"I guess even without Frank we were meant to solve this."

"Don't say 'meant to'."

"Why not?" Olivia asked playfully, shooting him a sideways look.

"That just makes it sound like it was our fate."

"And you don't think it was? Even after everything we've seen and experienced, you are honestly going to tell me you don't believe in fate?"

"I don't," Peter said honestly, "and I'll tell you why. Because of the alternate universes."

"The alternate universes?" Olivia echoed with skepticism.

"Yeah. See in theory, for every decision, big or small, and new universe forms. Which means that all outcomes are not only equally likely, they are all happening simultaneously. When we look back at our own universe, we see only that one path that got us to where we are, and it seems so improbably, that it seems like it must be 'meant to be', when really it's just the one random times that things worked out in this way. In another universe, we don't stop the disease and everyone dies, in another one, Jones never invents it to begin with. In another we never meet, or my father never loses his son, or none of us were ever born. There are an infinite number of worlds, each one of them thinking they're special, that fate guides them along a set path. When really, Einstein was wrong, God does play dice."

"Okay, you don't have to call it fate. But I still believe in something beyond random chance, something that connects and guides us."

"Why?"

Olivia took her eyes off the road for a long second and just looked at him. Finally she said in a small voice, "Because I met you. Even though we were never suppose to. Because no matter the differences in people's lives they still seem to end up falling in love, regardless of the universe. Your parents, mine, Charlie and his wife. Heck, I bet you the other universe's Henry Higgins has a Jasmine all his own. People find each other, again and again, even though, by your description of infinite universes, they should end up with an infinite collection of partners."

Olivia was looking back at the road. Peter stared at her profile, realizing how familiar it was to him; as if he had been staring at her face his whole life. "Please don't tell me you're taking me home."

"I'm not. Not to your home, anyway."

_apple

They were in each other arms long before they made it into the apartment. All thought of sleep left them as Peter pinned Olivia against her apartment door and began to kiss her neck. In a true show of dexterity Olivia managed to unlock her door while her back was still pressed against it, and the two of them practically fell into apartment 2A. Coats and shoes were discarded in a sea of hands and stolen kisses. It wasn't until Olivia turned around to lead Peter to the bedroom that she noticed September sitting on her couch. Still holding on to Peter's hand and with her body pointed in the direction of her room, she said, "We've stopped the virus and saved the world. Can't we just have one night off?" The observer merely tilted his head to the side. Reluctantly Olivia and Peter sat down on the couch across from him.

"I have told the others the timeline has been repaired. I do not think they will come after you. They are not concerned with the small details. They are interested in the big things, and great moments in history. Great moments of change. I have come to appreciate some of the smaller things. To marvel at those who work hard and struggle, those who fight against their fate. And with everything you and your counter parts in the alternate universe have endure, it seemed only right, that at least one set of your should have the opportunity to be happy". With that he was gone. Olivia stared at the seat of the couch that he used to occupy. She felt every sleepless hour hit her like a brick wall. She glanced at Peter, but saw her own feelings reflected in his eyes. The spark was out; all that was left was exhaustion and a vague emptiness.

Olivia got ready for bed in a daze, barely aware that Peter was even there. As she lay down she found it hard to believe she had been so happy only minutes before. The observer's not so veiled prophecy about her dream self upset her. The fact was that she liked the other Olivia and Peter, and she didn't have much interest in watching their lives crumble and break. Just the thought of it made her feel a deep foreboding in the pit of her stomach. The bed creaked slightly at Peter's weight as he climbed in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin against her shoulder. His stubble tickled. He whispered in her ear, "He was wrong about us." Olivia smiled. Peter did too, she could feel it against her back. Her dark mood faded away, and she pressed herself further into his embrace. Once again she felt relief. She felt completely content and at peace as she drifted into sleep. Into a field of white flowers and a little boy who would always know where to find her. A boy who would always be _home_.

_hand


End file.
